


From the Rubble

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Bombing, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Injury, Love Confessions, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Secret Relationship, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Terrorism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 14:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1514354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being caught in a terrorist bombing, Greg and Mycroft's relationship is exposed and they must face the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Greg smiled as he watched Mycroft. This was one of their favorite restaurants. It was discreet, quiet, and in the heart of the city they loved. They had a seat away from windows, shielded from most of the restaurant by a waiter’s station. They'd both been busy the last few weeks; this was their first night out in a while. Seeing Mycroft relax was well worth putting on a tie.

Glancing up, Mycroft caught his gaze and gave a rare smile in return. Under the table, Greg squeezed his hand. The waiter walked towards them with an appetizer. In the space of a heartbeat it all went to hell.

He saw the flash a second before the glass shattered. Without thinking he was across the table and trying to shield Mycroft when the building shuddered. There was a tremendous groan and he clung to his lover as the floor gave way and they were plunged into darkness.

Greg felt warmth underneath him. "Mycroft?"

There was a muffled moan and Greg shifted. They were in some kind of tight pocket but it was pitch black. "I think I broke your fall," muttered Mycroft.

"I'm a lousy boyfriend," said Greg.

Mycroft tensed at the word but for once didn't correct him. "I do believe my arm is broken."

"Shit.” Greg felt carefully around to figure out what they had to work with. ”We’ll get out of here. Don’t panic.” The pocket of space was just barely bigger than them and the ceiling prevented him from doing much more than raise his head. Faintly he could hear the muted sounds of emergency vehicles. "Help is already on the way."

"I am not panicking, Gregory. I would appreciate if you'd do the same."

"Right." Greg stopped moving and lay half on top of Mycroft. He ran a hand through his hair. There were things he wanted to say, but even here and now he couldn't say the words. Not even with them very nearly getting killed. And they weren’t out of the woods yet.

"Keep talking," said Mycroft quietly.

Greg leaned close to his ear. "I have never regretted our relationship."

"I love you," said Mycroft, more like a whisper of a prayer.

Greg's heart clenched. "I love you too, but don't go making any final goodbyes." This was not how he'd ever imagined it would be when he heard those words from Mycroft for the first time. He wished he knew how badly Mycroft was hurt. At least he could hear his breathing, calm and slow.

There were muffled voices somewhere near them. Greg raised his head and shouted for help. The voices stopped and Greg shouted again. Things shifted above them and he tried to shield Mycroft from falling dust and debris.

Greg lay tense and helpless for what seemed like an eternity. Mycroft had wanted him to talk, so he whispered in his ear about his childhood, things he’d never really talked to him about before. Anything to distract from the shifting and groaning of material above them. It was strange, in a way, that they had never spoken much about their pasts. But then again, they were never like other couples.

Finally the shifting grew close above his head. He held his breath as the last piece was moved, cool evening air reaching their little pocket. Strong arms hauled him up and out.  He blinked under the bright emergency lights. "Careful, he's got a broken arm," he called as he was set down and they reached for Mycroft.

Someone took his arm to help him away, but he refused to be moved until Mycroft was brought up into the light. He could see blood trickling down the side of his face. Their eyes met as Mycroft allowed someone to help him down the pile of debris. Greg stuck close by him.

There was the flash of a camera as they reached the bottom. Greg didn’t pay it any mind, but Mycroft frowned as they were both put into an ambulance.

They were separated at the hospital. Greg, somewhat impatiently, let himself be looked over. A woman he didn't know from the Yard stepped in to ask a few questions, but he didn't know anything of interest. They were working from the theory it was a random terror attack. Finally he was allowed to go find Mycroft's room.

Mycroft was in bed with his left arm in a sling and the fingers of his right hand dancing over his mobile. "You are okay?" He asked without looking up.

"Yeah, fine. Cuts and bruises. You?" Greg stayed in the doorway, watching him.

"Broken arm, minor concussion. Four stitches on my temple." He looked up. "You did try to shield me."

"Fat lot of good that did. I landed on you." Greg knew he had worry in his eyes.

"You had the strength to call for help. Come in and shut the door, please."

Greg stepped inside and closed it. He took the seat next to his bed. "They're saying it was a terror attack."

"I know. I'm working on it." Mycroft looked back at his mobile.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Greg's voice was gentle as he touched his arm.

Mycroft pulled away from his touch. "I need to increase your security."

Greg frowned. "Why?"

"There was a photograph taken of us together. People will make assumptions." Greg could hear the tight control.

"So?" Greg shifted more into his line of sight. “They’d be right, wouldn’t they?”

Mycroft sighed. "It puts you in danger."

Greg pried Mycroft’s hand away from his mobile and brought it to his lips. "I'm a police officer. I am somewhat familiar with the concept."

"I need to keep you safe." Mycroft turned to look at him.

"I know the feeling." Greg cracked a small smile. He reached up to brush his hair back, mindful of the stitches. "Whatever happens we'll deal with it together."

Mycroft's lips formed a thin line. Greg stood and kissed his forehead, pocketing Mycroft's mobile. "Rest."

Rolling his eyes, Mycroft settled back on the bed. Greg took a seat in the chair again, not wanting to leave him for a moment.

**

The next day Greg drove him home. He'd finally been persuaded to go get his own car and some breakfast. At least he'd let Mycroft pick him up for dinner the previous night.

Mycroft was quieter than usual as they drove. Greg cast a few glances his way, but he was engrossed in his mobile again. He refused help getting out of the car but let Greg get the door.

"Go home, Gregory," he said when they were inside. "Or go to work. I'm _fine_."

Greg looked at him, then leaned in and stole a quick kiss. "I'll come back tonight."

"And I will text you if anything comes up."

**

Greg found himself bombarded by questions about the bombing as soon as he came into work. Sally shooed them off long enough for him to retreat to his office. He sunk into his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Sally came in with coffee. "Morning."

Taking the coffee, Greg gave a grateful smile. "Good morning."

"You might want to see this first before you call it good." Sally pulled the front page of the paper out of her back pocket and lay it on his desk. The bombing was front page, of course, with a large picture of the damaged building. Below that were three smaller pictures. The outer two were of various battered and stunned survivors, but the middle one was Mycroft and him, both looking worse for wear and leaning towards one another. Mycroft's face was shadowed, but Greg's was as clear as the concern on his face.

"Christ," muttered Greg.

"You've been seeing him a while," said Sally confidently.

"Two years," Greg admitted. _And last night was the first time we said we loved each other._ The thought hit him like a brick.

Sally watched him. "I'll keep the wolves at bay."

"Thanks," said Greg, sipping his coffee and reaching for the first file as she headed out.

She stopped with her hand in the door and glanced back. "I'm glad you're okay."

Greg gave her a tired smile. "Me too."

He threw himself into work as soon as she left, finding it easier then going back into the main office. Mycroft texted him to remind him to eat lunch. Greg smiled and looked at his mobile. He took a breath. _I could take a half day if you want to get together for lunch -GL_

_Working. I'll see you tonight - MH_

Greg looked at the message. Two days ago he would have closed his mobile and left it alone. Today though.... _I love you - GL_

The silence stretched out so long he locked his phone. He got up to grab his coat, wondering about seeing Mycroft again. The phone buzzed as he picked it up. _I love you too - MH_

_**_

Greg pulled up in front of Mycroft's house and parked. He looked at the cool brick a long moment before unbuckling and getting out.

Mycroft was in the dining room with takeaway. He glanced at Greg and took a seat. With a smile, Greg sat across from him.

They ate in comfortable silence like they had so many nights before. Only the ache in Greg's bones and Mycroft's sling and bruises spoke to the trauma of the night before. When they finished Greg gathered the dishes and took them into the kitchen to wash.

Mycroft stepped behind him as he turned on the water. He wrapped his good arm around Greg's waist and rested his head  between his shoulder blades. Smiling softly, Greg left the dishes to soak and turned to face his lover, gathering him gently in his arms. Mycroft sighed and rested his head on his shoulder.

The man wasn't often clingy, but Greg could certainly understand the sentiment. Giving him a quick kiss, Greg led him to the study and settled into an overstuffed chair, drawing Mycroft into his lap and giving him another kiss.

Mycroft cupped his cheek. "We've narrowed down the suspects in the blast."

"That's good." Greg watched his eyes. "Are you in pain?"

"A bit. But I helps me focus. You?" Mycroft moved his hand over Greg's heart.

Greg looked him squarely in the eyes. "I love you."

Something shifted in Mycroft’s eyes. A caution, fear, perhaps a touch of relief. The smallest smile played across his lips. “I love you, too. So very much, Gregory.”

“I know.” Greg leaned in and kissed him with all the love in his heart. When he pulled back he put his hand over Mycroft’s. “What happens now?”

Mycroft shrugged. “Sentiment was never my strong suite.”

Greg smiled. “I know that, too. And it’s okay, really.”

Leaning forward, Mycroft rested his head on Greg’s shoulder. “You have enough heart for both of us.”

Greg rubbed his arm and kissed his forehead. There was still a lot of territory to negotiate, and he hadn’t yet heard from Sherlock, but at least he knew that they would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to themadkatter13, loveanddeathandartandtaxes and beltainfaerie for reading it over.


	2. Chapter 2

They sat quietly together until Greg started to nod off. "Hey. Let's go to bed," he said quietly, nudging his lover.

Mycroft carefully got up. Greg kept a hand on him to steady him. Neither of them were young anymore. "Perhaps a warm bath?" Suggested Mycroft.

"Sure. Head on upstairs. I'll be there in a minute." Greg watched him go before prying himself out of the chair and heading to the kitchen.

Mycroft was perched on the edge of the tub and watching the water as he came in, still dressed. Greg set the bag aside and moved to help him undress. Mycroft didn't argue but he did eye the plastic bag. "Broke my arm in uni playing rugby," said Greg. "You've got to keep the cast dry."

"I suppose the handsome man helping you bathe is optional?"

Greg chuckled and wrapped up the cast before stealing a kiss and stripping. He got into the tub first and helped Mycroft in after, settling him against his chest. At least it was a large tub.

Kissing the back of Mycroft's neck, Greg cleaned him gently. The hot water felt good on his aches, despite doing nothing for his drowsiness. Mycroft took the rag and turned to clean Greg's chest. He kissed him tenderly.

Finally they got out of the tub, helping one another.  Greg pulled a t-shirt over Mycroft's head. "I could still wear pyjamas," he grumbled.

"You'll be more comfortable this way," promised Greg.

Mycroft sighed and followed him to bed. Greg got in and threw an arm across his chest as Mycroft settled on his back.

Sometime later Greg woke as he was shoved off. He was awake in an instant, Mycroft whimpering and clawing at the blankets.

"Hey, hey." Greg moved back to his side and took his hand. "My....wake up. You're home. Safe."

With a gasp Mycroft's eyes flew open. It took a moment to focus "Gregory?"

"Yes." Greg smoothed his hair back. "You're safe."

Mycroft rolled to his feet, back to Greg. In the dim light Greg could see his shoulders starting to shake. He moved to sit behind him, gently reaching out to touch his back. In the t-shirt and moonlight his lover looked small and vulnerable. He carefully tugged him into his lap, holding him against his chest as he shook.

Tears stung Greg's eyes. He knew Mycroft wouldn't be this vulnerable with anyone else. He shifted back on the bed and leaned down to kiss his tears before resting their foreheads together.

Mycroft kissed him and held him a little tighter. Greg lay back, holding him still against his chest, mindful of the arm and how small he felt in his grasp.

"I could have lost you," Mycroft’s voice was tiny.

Greg wiped his eyes and kissed his forehead. "You didn't. I'm right here."

Mycroft leaned up and returned the kiss. "I am sorry. For my reticence in this relationship."

"I've never minded. Sentiment isn't your division, so to speak " Greg gave him a smile.

Weaving his fingers through Greg's, Mycroft took a deep breath. "Will you marry me, Gregory?"

Greg blinked. He half sat up, looking down at his lover. "Really?"

Mycroft searched his eyes. "We love each other."

"Something we hadn't verbally expressed until yesterday." Greg cupped his cheek. "I do love you, but let's not rush into things. That isn't you." His heart raced. He wanted to say yes with all his heart. But....

Mycroft looked down. He shifted off of Greg. "Of course," the control wrapped around his voice, lending him strength to get to his get to his feet again.

Greg grasped for his hand. "The answer won't always be no. I just don't want you to jump into something." _Something you might regret,_ he didn't say aloud. God knew how long it had taken him to convince Mycroft to date.

Mycroft didn't answer, simply stepped into the bathroom. Greg rubbed his face in hands, hoping he hadn't just fucked up the best thing to ever happen to him.

He returned after a minute and got back into bed. He rolled over, back to Greg. Reaching out, Greg touched his shoulder, but Mycroft had closed himself off. Wiping away the tear running down his cheek, Greg withdrew his hand and found a restless sleep.

**

Greg woke to an alert from his phone. Mycroft was already gone from bed. He got to his feet and quickly threw on his clothes, finding Mycroft in his home office, somehow impeccably dressed like usual, except for the sling. "Hey. It's work. I have to go. See you tonight?"

"That is not necessary," said Mycroft, not looking up.

Greg froze in the doorway.  "If this about last night...?"

"You made your position perfectly clear, Gregory." His voice was ice cold. It made Greg want to say sod work and go to him. Take him in his arms and kiss him and tell him of course he'd marry him and apologize for being an idiot.

Instead he took a breath, then another. "Okay. I'll text."

Mycroft never looked up as he closed the door behind him.

**

It was a triple murder. Needing the distraction, he texted Sherlock. Sally watched him, but said nothing.

A few minutes later Sherlock came on the scene like a hurricane, John in his wake. He glanced at the bodies, then turned his full attention on Greg.

"You and my brother had a fight."

"The case, Sherlock." Greg pointed at the bodies, but his gaze didn't waver.

"You feel it was your fault, but are uncertain if you were wrong or whether you should apologize." Sherlock took a step towards him.

" _Sherlock_." Greg was well aware of the other Yarders around.

"Trauma often brings repressed emotions to the surface and that certainly describes him. And you, to some extent."

John stepped between them, but Sherlock's gaze was fixed on Greg's. "You have been together for....two years. You regularly spend time in one another's company and yet you are _still_ uncertain of your feelings for one another."

"As if you've got room to talk about that!" snapped Greg.

Sherlock finally blinked and glanced at John. The smaller man simply shrugged before turning to Greg. "Come here,” he said quietly to Greg.

Greg allowed himself to be lead away while Sherlock finally turned his attention to the bodies.

"I saw the paper," said John. "I'm glad you're both okay and so is Sherlock."

Greg ran a hand through his hair. "Thanks."

"So, what did happen?"

Greg sighed. "We did argue." He glanced around to make sure they were alone.  "The daft git asked me to marry him,"

"Why did you say no?" John's eyes were clear and concerned.

"Because he and Mycroft are emotionally constipated." Sherlock declared as he came up behind them. "Do you wish to know who did it?"

Greg sighed. "Yes, go on," he waved his arm at the corpses.

Sherlock quickly expounded on the case. John gave Greg a sympathetic look as Sherlock swept out. "Drinks later?"

"Not tonight."

******

Greg went home as soon as the paperwork was done. He sighed as he stepped inside. He'd moved into this flat after his divorce and it had never felt like home.

"You are being ridiculous, Lestrade," he said aloud to no one.

Making up his mind, he turned around and went back to his car, driving fast but carefully across the city. He parked down the street and let himself in via the kitchen door, quietly as he could.

In no time at all, he was whipping up one of Mycroft's favorite dinners: a simple pasta with a fettuccine sauce and chicken. Mycroft didn't cook often for himself, but he always had a fully stocked kitchen.

Soon enough the man appeared in the doorway. "Gregory?"

"Who else magically appears in your kitchen making dinner? Why not get us a bottle of wine?"

Mycroft left to get one. Greg finished the chicken and cut it up so Mycroft wouldn't have to. By the time he came back, the table was set and Greg was setting down salad to go with the meal.

They ate in comfortable silence, like they had so many nights before. For the first time, Greg allowed himself to imagine this being every night. He rarely went back to his own flat anyway, unless perhaps Mycroft was out of town or had a lot of work to do.

Mycroft broke the silence first, looking at his plate. "Thank you."

Greg reached over and put his hand over his. "I'm sorry."

Mycroft shrugged and speared a tomato. "You have been married before. It is understandable that you would be hesitant about doing so again."

Greg studied his face. Mycroft looked tired and drawn. He was clearly still in some physical pain. Feeling Greg's gaze he looked up, eyes, for once, uncertain.

Knowing this was right, Greg stood and walked around the table while Mycroft watched him with confusion. He slipped down on one knee, taking his good hand.

"Mycroft Holmes. I am a colossal idiot. But if you’re sure you want me, I'd be honored to marry you."

A warm smile cracked the cold face. Mycroft leaned down to kiss him. "Of course I am sure. Yes, I will marry you."

Greg stood and kissed him deeply.

Mycroft tugged him into his lap and rested his head on his chest. "But, you _are_ an idiot."

Chuckling, Greg kissed the top of his head. "I love you."

"Further proof," Mycroft was muffled by his shirt.

"Well I'm going to do the dishes, then take you upstairs and show you just how much. Slowly," his voice turned dark and teasing.

Mycroft raised his head. "Sod the dishes. We’re going up _now_."

Greg laughed at his choice of words and took Mycroft's hand. Would be tricky with that arm, but they'd manage. One more challenge they would overcome. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks again to themadkatter13, loveanddeathandartandtaxes and beltainefaerie.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
